


My Sun, My Moon

by starlight_starbright



Series: Werewolf AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Non-Graphic Rape, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Slightly RPF, Soulmates, Stucky Big Bang 2016, True Love, Warlocks, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves, a/b/o dynamics, but not over-the-top, but only with two characters, but they just talk about it, i never know what to tag, soul marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a warlock. That said, it's not like the stuff you read in Harry Potter where everyone gets a wand and they go around casting spells and making things fly around the room all the while blowing up their aunts and getting in trouble with the Ministry of Magic. </p><p>Bucky is a werewolf, and so as far as Steve's concerned, he has no chance. Bucky is a loner, keeping to himself, only befriending a few other people.</p><p>Or: a soulmate AU where Steve is a warlock adopted into a werewolf pack after the death of this parents and Bucky is a werewolf from a mysterious background taken into Steve's pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this work is almost done, but there's a little bit left that I still have to write. I've just been gone so long from here that I wanted to put something up for you guys! Hope you like it.

Steve is a warlock. That said, it's not like the stuff you read in Harry Potter where everyone gets a wand and they go around casting spells and making things fly around the room all the while blowing up their aunts and getting in trouble with the Ministry of Magic. 

Steve loves those books, but that's not his life as a creature of magic. Warlocks don't have a solid community, no real network like other supernatural creatures. No, warlocks are loners, not to be bothered to deal with the human world. They would outlive them all, anyway. 

No, Steve's magic is ancient, sitting right on the line between light and dark, able to go either way. Steve has to remind himself daily to stay firmly in the light—nature magic, healing, protecting. 

Though, however alone Steve may feel, he never will be truly alone. He has two great dads who love him despite the species difference. He has a few good friends, and he has a relatively good life. 

But he wants _more_. 

He wants to be a wolf. He would give up his magic to be able to run with his parents, to be able to shift and hunt and be one of the pack. He wants to feel what Sam feels every time he shifts, wants to be connected to his loved ones in the unique way wolves communicate. He wants to turn. And he's going to when he turns eighteen. 

Even if it kills him. 

-

Bucky is a werewolf, and so as far as Steve's concerned, he has no chance. Bucky is a loner, keeping to himself, only befriending a few other people. He mostly sticks to his brother Clint and his best friend Natasha, but they sometimes hang out with some of Steve's friends. 

There's a rumour that Bucky, his brother, and Natasha had been kicked out of their pack. Of course, there are different reasons floating around, but the most prominent one is that Bucky killed his father. No one knows why, but the way his left arm had been mauled—definitely werewolf—raised questions. They'd come to join Steve's pack three years ago, and the rumours had never stopped. Steve didn't believe most of them, why would he?  

So he sees Bucky every now and then, and sometimes at school, and he's head over heels. He'd never admit it, but it's true. But what gets Steve about Bucky isn't his pretty face or pretty eyes or pretty hair. No, what draws Steve to Bucky is all of the pain hidden there, and all of the kindness. Steve, in his limited experience, has come to find that those who have been through the most pain are the kindest. And Bucky has experienced serious pain in his life. 

 _Something_ happened to made Bucky, Clint, and Natasha leave their pack, and Steve wonders if that's the reason Bucky stands up for him. If that pain is being funnelled into helping people, if that's how Bucky copes. Because he seems to always be in the right place at the right time to stop whoever Steve is up against whether it be the normal trio of stupidity or something else. 

Steve wants to know what makes him tick, what his favourite colour is, if he likes his coffee black or with cream and sugar. He wants to know all the little things first, and to let the bigger things come in time. 

But Bucky is a werewolf and Steve is a warlock. The odds are always going to be against them.  

-

Just _once_ , Steve would like to be able to relax in peace. Just once. But of course he can't, why would he think that was possible with Brock and his buddies running around? It's like they just really want to piss Steve off enough so that he does something stupid. 

Like let his magic loose. 

Except he can't do that. Michael has told him enough times that he has to be very careful with his magic. That it's an old magic, a sacred magic, that Steve needs to be cautious when using it. 

And when the Alpha of his pack tells him to be careful, you bet your ass he's going to listen. Because not only is Michael the Alpha, he's also been like a father to Steve. The father he never had. 

Michael took Steve in as a baby, which is saying something considering the list of medical problems Steve has, and he's been raised by their family—Michael and his mate James. They never had pups of their own due to a trauma to James no one ever talks about, and they were kind enough to give Steve a family. He'll forever be grateful for that. 

The only thing he hates about the pack are that group of three young wolves that have always fucked with him. As a kid, as a teenager, and even now. More specifically, _right_ now. 

"Whatcha got there, Steve?" Brock taunts, ripping Steve's sketchbook out of his hands and flipping through the pages. All five of them are gathered around Steve, smirking. 

"Man this is some witchy-ass shit," Alex says, ripping the book out of Brock's hand. 

"Guess someone's not smart enough to determine the difference between a warlock and a witch," Steve grumbles. Alex just smirks. 

"Guys, look at this." And then he hands the book over to Johann who looks down at it and snickers, ripping a few pages out and crumpling them in his hands. A tree branch cracks and falls to the ground behind them, and Steve reigns his magic in as he sees Johann tossing the book into the mud.  

That has Steve on his feet though, fist connecting with Johann's nose. The other man reels back, hands going up to his nose and then staring at Steve, like he can't believe Steve would hit him. But ruining the things Steve had worked for hours on? No, he's done with their shit. 

Steve is bracing himself for a fight when he sees a brunet approaching them. 

"The fuck is going on over here?" Bucky calls, and the three wolves scatter, knowing that Bucky will fuck them up if he catches them. 

"I don't need your help," Steve says when Bucky jogs over to him. The brunet just picks Steve's sketchbook up out of the mud and hands it over. Steve can't help but look him over, and he won't lie to himself--he likes what he sees. Always has. The brunet is in a long-sleeved shirt and black slim cut jeans that make his ass look phenomenal, and Steve has to bite his lip to keep from saying anything.  

"I know you don't," Bucky says quietly, not meeting Steve's eyes. "Was just trying to help." And that's the thing about Bucky--he's _always_ trying to help Steve. It's almost like he has a _thing_ for Steve, but that's impossible, right? For someone as attractive as he is to like someone like Steve. Steve isn't even a wolf. "You feeling good about tonight?" Bucky asks, concerned now, and Steve stiffens. He'd had pneumonia two months ago, and now Bucky is asking if Steve is strong enough to cast the wards tonight. 

"I'm fine," he says flatly, knowing Bucky hadn't meant it like that. He's trying not to be offended. 

"You'll do great," the brunet says, and Steve flushes. He just stands there awkwardly, eyes flashing anywhere but Bucky's face until Bucky dips down to Steve's level to get a look at his face. "You're stronger than they think you are," he says quietly, almost to himself, and then straightens up. "I'll see you later, then?" he asks, and Steve nods, not really hearing him in his haste to get away. 

The brunet just smiles at him and walks away, toward his own house where he lives with his best friend Natasha and his brother Clint. Steve kicks himself for having been a bit rude. All Bucky had done was saved Steve from a beating and checked in on him.

Tonight is a big night for him—the ultimate test of his magic—and Steve should appreciate the concern rather than be upset about it. Especially from his soon-to-be packmates. Because in a few hours, he will make the choice to become one of them.  

And on the other side, for the last five years, Steve has been the one to renew the wards around their territory. They do it every year during the summer and it always exhausts him for a few days. Bucky knows this—for the last three years he's made it his mission to make sure Steve gets home safe and is taken care of after. 

And Steve really is grateful for Bucky. He and the brunet have never been _friends_ , exactly, but they don't dislike each other. Bucky's gone through some shit, Steve can tell, and so it makes sense for Bucky to be on the quiet side. To others, it may make him come off as hostile, but Steve gets it. Steve has always liked Clint and Natasha—they're funny, not to mention _hot_. Especially Bucky and Clint, seeing as Steve prefers men. 

Not like Natasha isn't the most gorgeous woman Steve's ever seen, but women just don't do it for him. 

Huffing a sigh, Steve heads back toward his house to get ready for the ceremony tonight. It was already starting to get dark when Brock and his friends showed up, and the sun has almost completely set now. He pulls his light stone out of his pocket and holds it in front of him, illuminating the path. 

When he gets back to the house, James smiles and greets him. The whole house smells like warm sugar and some kind of scented candle, maybe chai? Steve crosses the kitchen and steals a cookie off of the baking tray James had just pulled out of the oven. 

"Hey!" James exclaims, feigning anger. "You put that back." Steve just laughs, spewing a few crumbs onto the counter while James looks on with mock disgust. "You could eat an actual meal instead of eating my baked goods," he says mildly, turning around to start putting the cookies away. 

"You know I can't eat a full meal before this," Steve says back, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. James doesn't look at him, but Steve can see his shoulders sag a little. He hates hurting his parents, but this is something he really wants. Something he's wanted since he was a kid. Being a wolf, being like them. 

"I know," he older man whispers. "But I can't help but worry about you. Wards _and_ turning? Do you really have to do both tonight?" And James really does look worried, and Steve won't lie to him and say he'll be okay. So instead, he wraps his arms around James in a tight hug, brown hair getting stuck on his glasses. They both laugh when he pulls away and his glasses tug at James' hair, and Steve straightens up. 

"Thanks, dad," Steve murmurs. James smiles and goes back to what he was doing.  

"Did Bucky find you?" James asks innocently. 

"You told him where I was?" Steve fires back, and he hears rather than sees James snicker. 

"I merely told him you were out drawing," he replies. "He figured out the rest." And that makes Steve blush, because that means Bucky knows where Steve likes best—the willow tree overlooking the creek. "He likes you," James says then, and Steve lets out a surprised squawk. 

"He does _not_!" Steve exclaims, stumbling backwards to the stairs. Steve would know if Bucky liked him, right? He'd notice. 

"And you like him!" James sings while Steve flees up the stairs. His parents have known for a while now that he likes men, and they didn't care. Wolves can mate with the opposite gender, as long as he or she is the opposite orientation to create pups. It is, however, frowned upon to mate with the same orientation. It's not outlawed, but it's not fully accepted either. 

Putting all of that out of his mind, he gets to work. He has a lot to do in the next four hours. He has to renew his strength runes, add some for meditation and one for healing. 

Unfortunately, the healing rune doesn't work on illnesses and disabilities Steve was born with, but between his own remedies and human medicine, he's done okay. But it _will_ help him during the ceremony since he's also becoming a member of the pack. 

He had asked about it once when he was young, and Michael and James had told him that if still wants to join the pack when he's eighteen, then he could. And Steve is going to. 

Today is his birthday. 

Great birthday present, right? A fifty-fifty chance of death. Sounds great. 

James had told him that they don't know how it will affect him. Steve is a warlock, and he'd be joining a werewolf pack. It's risky, seeing as everyone knows the effect of werewolf bites on other beings. 

They usually don't survive. 

So if Steve casts more protection spells on himself, no one but him will notice. He's not about to do anything to make him look weak in front of his pack. No one will know how deep his runes go, how much strength he needs to get through both things happening tonight. 

He knows he's not at full strength, not after his bout of pneumonia, but he's hoping he has enough to come out on the other side of this. 

Thankfully, the pain fades as he paints the healing runes onto his thigh. The temporary runes will fade in a day or so, but he has his permanent ones tattooed. The rune for healing over his chest, the rune for strength on his back left shoulder. There's one for clarity on his wrist, another for protection covering his entire back. 

Basically, he's covered in runes and where there aren't runes there are magical tattoos. There's a cat on his right shoulder, and it likes to curl up around Steve's neck. He'd gotten a raven done on his calf, and it flutters from one leg to the other. He has some tribal designs on his forearms that ripple and stretch with the movement of his body. They're one thing that makes him confident about his body. He's not muscular like the rest of the pack, but he's lean and quick. The only thing that slows him down is his asthma. 

He goes over to his nightstand and roots through his different gem necklaces, looking for one in particular. 

"Gotcha," he mutters to himself, pulling out the bloodstone. Steve wears it every time he renews the wards. He wears it almost every day, actually. It's known to keep the wearer protected, to give them strength and courage. He has multiple black stones that he could wear, but he decides against it. Black stones are known to give protection, but the bloodstone is what Steve was wearing when Michael found him. 

It's all he has left of his biological parents, and it's important to him. 

"Steve!" someone calls from outside. _Bucky_. Steve goes over to the window and opens it to see Bucky _climbing up the side of the house_  like in a fucking romance movie. Steve moves away to let him in, still shocked that Bucky Barnes had just climbed the house and is now in his room.  

"Um . . ." Steve says, looking around the room. 

"Wanted to tell you something before . . ." Bucky trails off and looks down. Steve takes a deep breath and looks Bucky straight in the eye. 

"What did you wanna tell me?" he asks. Because he may not be alive later to ask. Bucky shuffles his feet and then paces to the other side of the room. When he turns, he gives Steve a once-over and then smirks, and Steve flushes, realising he doesn't have his shirt on. 

And Bucky is staring at him. 

"I, um . . ." Bucky stutters to a stop, and Steve walks over to him. If Steve's going to make a move like his dad said he should, why not now? 

"Buck, it's fine," Steve says, touching Bucky's wrist. Pure positive energy runs through Steve's body, lighting him up inside. Steve craves more of it instantly. It's warm and inviting and _home_. 

But Bucky pulls away, and they stumble apart. Bucky has fallen to one knee, hair falling into his face, but he looks over at Steve anyway. The cat on his neck is hissing and the raven is fluttering anxiously from leg to leg, and Steve feels dizzy. The lights in the room flicker, and Steve takes a deep breath. He _has_ to learn to control his magic better than this. 

"The fuck _was_ that?" Steve breathes, still trying to compose himself. Bucky looks just as shocked as Steve is. 

"The mark," Bucky whispers. It hits Steve like a train. The mark on the back of his neck that he's had since birth. "Mine finally showed." 

"The soulmate mark?" Steve asks, just to be sure. Bucky nods, and Steve's heart flutters. Bucky is his _soulmate?_

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, making his way to the window. "This was a mistake, I should go." Bucky makes to climb out the window, but Steve blocks his path, and they both come to a halt. Bucky looks so confused it's almost laughable, so Steve reaches up and cups his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss. The risk he's about to take makes him reckless and eager, pulling Bucky closer and deepening the kiss. 

Steve's body is so _alive_ , his skin singing where Bucky's hands touch him. Steve feels magic seeping out of him, making the room brighter and warmer and Steve suddenly stops and pulls away panting. 

"I can't," he breathes, trying to catch his breath. 

"I get it," Bucky starts, and Steve cuts him off. 

"No, not that! I just have to be careful with my magic," Steve explains. "Michael says it could be dangerous to lose control." Bucky takes that in, and then moves in with a sly smile on his face. 

"I make you lose control?" he asks, placing a hand on Steve's hip. The cat on Steve's neck makes its way over to Steve's shoulder and blinks at Bucky.

"You're full of yourself," Steve retorts, smiling. Bucky chuckles a bit, and then gets serious again. 

"I'd like to take you out sometime," Bucky says, a bit awkwardly. Which is strange, because Steve has seen how smooth he is with women. "On a real date." There's a smile on his face, and it lights up his eyes. Steve wants to say something, to say yes, but all he can do is stare. 

"Steve!" Michael calls from the bottom of the stairs. Steve freezes, and then he's shoving Bucky toward the window. 

"Go, go, go!" Steve whispers frantically, getting Bucky out of the window and onto the roof. 

"Find me tonight," Bucky says quickly. "Or I'll find you."  

"Promise," Steve replies, and Bucky kisses him quickly before scaling the wall to the ground. Steve shuts the window just in time, and Michael walks through the door. 

"Who were you talking to?" Michael asks. Steve just looks at his father and knows Michael already knows. 

"Bucky was here," Steve says, moving to his closet to grab a shirt. "He has my mark, father. What do I do?" Steve is starting to panic now. He's finally found his soulmate, a man who had been in his life for three years now, and now he may lose him. It's not fair.  

"Do you really want this?" Michael asks, leaning back against the doorframe. He seems to exude confidence, and Steve has always wanted to be like him. To be a wolf, to be a part of the pack and run on the full moon. To hunt and kill and eat and be that close to Mother Nature. 

"It's all I want," Steve finally replies. Michael pushes off the wall and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. 

"You're brave, Steve. Truly courageous, and that's very rare. You're going to need every ounce of that bravery to get through this. If it doesn't turn out the way you're hoping, then what?"

"I die," Steve says back without thinking. 

"Yes, but you also lose all that you've worked for here." Michael looks at him, and Steve feels like he's looking into his soul. 

"Yes," Steve murmurs, voice soft but strong. 

"You don't have to do this, Steve," Michael says, urgent now. Steve will have to leave soon. "I'll love you either way." His father smiles a bit, and Steve warms. His arms go around Michael's waist and he clings to him like he used to when he was a child. His father's arms go around him, returning the embrace, and Steve pulls away. 

"I'm doing this for me," Steve says. "Not anyone else. I know I don't need to prove myself to you." 

"You do that every day," Michael says with a smile, backing out of the room. "See you soon." And Steve nods, sending a smile back. He feels more confident in his choice now. Michael and James will love him no matter what he chooses, and he knows that he's really doing this for himself. To belong, to be a part of something. 

As a warlock in a werewolf pack, he's always felt alone. He has friends, good friends, but he's different from everyone. Yes, they have their own kind of magic, but he's got a different kind of magic. His magic comes from the Earth, not just the moon like theirs. He muses on that as he pulls his shoes on and exists the house, heading toward the place where the wards are the weakest—the border touching two other pack's territory. 

He's ready for this, prepared for this, and he quickens his pace. Because Bucky will be there, and Michael and James will be there, and Sam and Peggy will be there. He has a support system in place, people that love him and have been with him his whole life. He can do this. 

What he doesn't see coming is Brock and his buddies jumping him. One well-timed punch to the temple from the bigger man, and Steve is out. 

-

Steve wakes up on the ground, the moon high in the sky above him. He can't hear anything, can't feel anything. All he sees is the full moon, silver and bright and the stars glinting in the sky. Feeling is slowly coming back to his body, and it _hurts_. He almost whimpers with it, feeling the need to curl in on himself and make himself smaller. 

He's scared and he doesn't know where he is. It's windy tonight, and Steve can hear wolves howling in the distance, but not close enough for anyone to find him. He tries to push himself up onto his elbows, but his muscles are screaming at him to just lie back down and sleep. He can feel the healing runes working, feel the magic flowing through his body, repairing it. 

The moon is starting to go down. If the sun comes up and the wards haven't been renewed, their territory is in danger from rival packs. If another Alpha enters their territory, he or she can challenge Michael for this pack. And that ends up with one of the Alphas dead. Steve has to do this now. 

So he sits up slowly, taking in his surroundings. He's where he was before he got knocked out—about a half mile from where the ceremony was supposed to take place—and the guys who beat the shit out of him are nowhere to be seen. He knows time has passed, a lot of time, and he hopes he still has enough to complete the wards. 

He sits as straight as he can and closes his eyes. Words flow out of his mouth, some in English and some not. He doesn't notice the wolves howling until it's right on top of him, and even then he doesn't open his eyes. He needs to concentrate. He can already feel the drain on his energy, the pain in the runes where they're working overtime to keep him alive. He hears someone shift, and then there's footsteps running toward him. 

"Steve!" Bucky calls, but the air changes as someone else shifts, and Steve knows Michael or James is holding Bucky back. Good. Steve can't afford to be distracted right now. He channels all of his energy and strength into the words he's saying, the spells he's casting. Protection, prosperity, and mending the holes in the wards. He's cementing them, protecting his pack from attacks. 

Steve is starting to get dizzy about halfway through his spell, but he doesn't slow down. Instead, he speeds it up. He needs to finish before his body gives out. Before the magic consumes him. 

"Steve Rogers, you stop this right now!" Sam calls from Steve's left, but he doesn't pay his best friend any mind. He has to do this or someone he loves could get hurt. 

"James, do something!" Tony pleads, but no one touches him. No doubt, Michael and James are holding themselves back, respecting Steve's wishes. 

" _Steve!_ " Bucky yells, and Steve finally opens his eyes. But instead of looking at Bucky, Steve locks eyes with Michael. His father nods, and Steve lets himself relax into the spell. Michael and James are both here, and Steve will be fine no matter the outcome. 

He led a good life. He has a lot of good memories. James pushing him on a swing as a child, his first run with the pack. (Not so much of a run, but more of Michael carrying Steve on his back during the monthly run). When he had met Sam as a kid, and they became instant best friends. When he'd had sex for the first time and blown the roof off of their house sophomore year. When James had let Steve cry when he and Peggy broke up. 

He had the best parents someone could ask for, and he'd had a happy life. The sickness, the bullies . . . they didn't seem to matter anymore. Steve feels completely calm as he says the last few words of the spell. He feels an intense rush of anxiety coming from outside of his body, his heart pounding. He can't feel his fingers, can't move his legs. He realises he's fallen back onto his back, head lolled to the side. 

There are too many people around him, too many voices demanding things of him, and he retreats into his head. His entire body hurts, his extremities throbbing with pain. There's fire licking through his chest, and he realises something is wrong. 

It's hard to breathe. He can't suck in enough oxygen and it's making him light headed. There's something wrong with his lungs, and it doesn't feel like an asthma attack. It feels like his heart is giving in under all the stress of the beating and the spell. 

"Father," Steve says, almost delirious, and opens his eyes. Michael's face comes into view, the older man leaning over Steve. "You promise me." Steve can see fear flash across his father's face--something he's never seen from Michael before. There's anger there, real fury at the people that did this to him. 

"I will, son," Michael says, and Steve knows he isn't lying. Steve's heart is still racing, and the darkness is rising in his vision. 

"Tell Bucky . . ." Steve tries to finish it, he really does, but he coughs, turning his head to the side and staring at the bloody gunk he'd just hacked up. That's not good. 

"He knows, Steve," James says from Steve's other side. "We all know." And with that, Steve lets his eyes close. 

"Now, James," Michael says, and James shifts, Michael following him. They're both beautiful wolves—Michael silver and black, James chocolate brown. Steve knows that whatever happens next, he was loved by these two men. 

"He's not strong enough!" Bucky cries, and the brunet stumbles to Steve's side, pressing his hand to the mark on Steve's neck. "I can't lose you," he whispers. "I just found you." Heart breaking, Steve moves his hand so that his palm rests against the mark on Bucky's wrist. There's a spark there, and then Steve feels the bites--one on his shoulder, one on his thigh. Pain laces through Steve's veins, setting his nerves on fire. 

"We'll be together soon," Steve says sleepily, shutting his eyes. Steve feels the change happening, and he can only hope he's strong enough to make it. 

He sends one last prayer to whoever is out there to listen, and then lets go. Fate will take him where she wants him, and there's no use in fighting it. 

He'll either wake up, or he won't. It's done now. 

-

The first time Steve wakes up, he's barely coherent. He's gotten use to the pain—the electricity in his blood—and he can now focus on other things. And the smells alone are enough to overwhelm him. It smells like ice and blood and mint. It smells like an impending storm over a battlefield. And when Steve looks up, he sees Bucky. 

-

The second time Steve wakes up, there's someone trying to make him drink. Steve fights against it for a moment before he realises it's just water, and then he lets the person hold the bottle to his lips. He takes short sips, the rational part of his brain telling him he's probably dehydrated. There's a different smell here, like earth and magic. Steve can't place it, and the scent follows him into his dreams. 

-

The third time Steve wakes up, the pain is gone. He feels renewed, like he's just gotten a solid eight hours of sleep and is ready to take on the world. There's a sense of power about him, something he's never felt before. He feels almost invincible. 

He feels too big. 

Or the bed feels too small, he doesn't know. But he's taking up more space than he used to—his twin sized bed isn't big enough.  

His twin sized bed. 

 _His_ bed. 

He's at home? Who brought him here? Why would they move him? That was dangerous in and of itself. For them, not Steve. When the runes are working, they burn bright with the magic inside Steve. They must have wrapped him in something. They could have _hurt_ themselves touching Steve during that.  

But who is _they_? Michael and James for sure, probably Bucky, maybe Sam or Tony. So all of those people have been here watching Steve go through this. Steve doesn't even know what happened, much less the screams and cries of pain they must've heard.  

But he's alive. And _something_ happened. He doesn't feel the chronic pain in his back and his heart is beating at regular intervals. He can hear and smell  _everything_. The person in the room with him smells like ice and blood and mint. _Bucky_. He can hear the quickened beating of his heart, smell the panic coming off of him. 

He also smells sunshine and chocolate. That _has_ to be James. Then there's earth and magic and maybe some of that magic is coming from Steve himself, but that scent was there when he woke up the last time. And the magic Steve is sensing is as old as the mountains and as crisp as the snow on the peaks. _Michael_. It has to be. 

His family has been all around him—watching over him while he was out. It makes him feel warm inside, enough to finally open his eyes. His room is dim, but there's enough light to see Bucky pacing the length of the room. James is in the chair in the corner by Steve's desk, and they both look rough. 

James sees him first, and rushes over to him, kneeling before Steve's bed and running a hand through his hair. 

"Steve?" his dad asks, a smile breaking across his face. Steve makes a small noise and closes his eyes again. "Go get Michael," James tells someone, someone Steve hadn't seen in the room. Bucky is on the other side of Steve, just hovering like he doesn't really know what to do. He's rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and Steve can see his arm, the scarred mess that it is. A pang of sympathy cuts through Steve, and he looks up into Bucky's eyes. He wants to convey that he doesn't care, that the arm is a part of Bucky and Steve wants all of him, even the broken parts. 

But then Michael bursts into the room and falls down next to James, one arm going around his waist and the other reaching out to touch Steve's arm. James and Michael both look like they may cry, and Bucky still hasn't touched him, and he really wants to know what's going on. 

"You were out for almost four days," Michael says. "Turning usually only takes one." So he didn't turn? He's not a wolf? 

"You _are_ a wolf," James says, reading Steve's face like he's always been able to. "There were just . . . other changes as well." And that's when Steve sits up, and almost falls over because there was too much strength behind the motion. 

"What the fuck?" Steve asks to no one in particular, looking over what he has become. He has a completely different body—like someone who has gone to the gym every day of their life and has _really_ good genetics. He also feels stronger, the way his body moves like it's used to being smaller. He puts more force behind things, a kind of power he's never had. 

"Your body changed right away," Michael says. "It took your mind a little while to catch up." James ruffles Steve's hair and stands up, making to leave the room. "Bucky, would you mind getting Steve some water while I go fetch fresh clothes?" Momentarily startled, Bucky stumbles over his feet before nodding at James and following him out of the room. 

"What was that about?" Steve asks, and Michael moves to sit on the edge of the bed.  Steve looks at his father, and feels a bit guilty. The man looks so tired, like he has t gotten any sleep since that night. 

"Bucky hasn't left since he brought you here," Michael explains. "He wouldn't let anyone touch you and James had to physically remove him from the room while Sam and I cleaned your wounds because he kept shifting and growling at us." Michael cracks a smile and Steve laughs. It doesn't hurt. 

"What happened to me?" Steve asks next, growing serious again. 

"You shifted almost immediately," Michael starts, eyeing Steve like he's a miracle. "You stayed in wolf form for a few hours, and then shifted back. And when you shifted back, you were . . . bigger. From what I can tell, all of your illnesses have been cured, and you're an alpha—that's why your body changed so much." Cocking his head, Steve looks at Michael and sighs. It's going to take time to get used to this. 

Bucky comes back into the room with a glass of water and some clothes, and Steve sits up fully, marvelling at the way his new muscles ripple when he reaches for the water. He notices his runes are still there, can see the raven fluttering around on his calf, feel the cat looped around his neck, so that didn't change. He can still feel the magic inside of him, but it's almost like its amplified. He feels like he could cast a hundred spells and not break a sweat.  

"How're you feeling?" Bucky asks, sitting down next to him. He smells so _good_ , almost like the scent was made to entice Steve. His father gets up and leaves, sending one last glance behind him, but it's at Bucky, not Steve. Steve looks back to Bucky who is still expecting an answer. 

"Bigger," Steve says, and Bucky smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Steve's fingers find the mark on Bucky's wrist, and gasps. 

The connection is still there. 

"It'll be stronger when you shift," Bucky says. "And if we . . . you know. If you want that." Bucky rubs a hand through his hair and over the back of his neck, and Steve laughs. The bad boy of the pack—the man who is notorious for sleeping around—is awkward about sex. 

"If we . . . mate?" Steve supplies, and Bucky flushes. "You can say it out loud, it's okay." The brunet laughs nervously, and Steve just reaches up and kisses him, full on the mouth. Startled, Bucky hesitates before kissing back, and Steve smiles into it. "I'm still me, Buck," Steve whispers, running his fingers through that long brown hair. "Everything I said four days ago is still true, everything that happened still stands." 

"Thank god," Bucky breathes, and dives in for another kiss. "I was scared that once you turned, you wouldn't want me anymore. That maybe your mark would change." Another kiss, and then Steve just pulls him down on the bed and snuggles up close. Bucky's fingers are brushing over the mark on Steve's neck, sending tingles down his spine. 

"If I'm an alpha now . . ." Steve starts, tracing patters over Bucky's chest. 

"If you're an alpha now . . . what?" Bucky says, a hint of apprehension in his voice. 

"Does that make you my omega?" Steve asks quickly, hiding his face a bit, momentarily forgetting he's now bigger than Bucky. 

"If we mate, then yes," Bucky replies, voice shaking a bit. Steve sits up on his elbow and looks Bucky straight in the eye. 

"Does that make you the bottom?" There's a moment of silence and then Bucky's face breaks out in a grin, arms pulling at Steve until he's on top of the brunet. 

"Whatever you want, doll," Bucky drawls. Steve leans down to kiss him and then nips down his neck. 

"And what if I wanna bottom for you?" Steve asks lowly, rising up and mouthing at Bucky's jaw. He presses his hips down a bit and _god_ Bucky's hard already. The brunet let's out a harsh breath and nods. 

"I guess we could work something out," he replies, voice cracking a bit at the end. 

"Sounds good," Steve breathes, and then lays back down, pulling Bucky close. "But not here. Not now." The brunet nods, and Steve knows he's right. If they're going to mate, it's not going to be with Steve's parents around. It's going to be special, and it can't be that until Steve has learned to control his magic in this new body. 

"Soon," Bucky murmurs, nuzzling into Steve's neck. 

"Soon," Steve agrees, and he means it. 

-

Being a wolf is something Steve never thought he would feel—power. It's pure energy, propelling himself through miles of forest and hunting with the pack. Feeling his muscles strain as he pushes himself faster, and he finds he's actually faster than Bucky. 

It's unity, it's belonging. It's constant communication in wolf form. He can hear everyone in his head when they run, when they hunt. He feels better than he has in a very long time. 

It doesn't hurt that Michael exiled the three wolves from the pack. This wasn't their first offence, and they had the _nerve_ to attack the son of the Alpha? They're lucky Michael chose to show them mercy and _not_ kill them. Under their law, he very well could have. Michael had asked Steve what he thought—open, like his parents have always been—and Steve had said he never wanted to see them again. 

Michael'd made that happen. He'd stripped them of the pack bond and sent them away. 

Steve never wanted them dead, that was too easy. He wanted them to never belong anywhere ever again, not fully. Because even if they were to be taken in somewhere else, they'll never truly be _pack_ ever again. And that tastes like victory to Steve. 

He's really, truly happy. Something he hasn't been, well, ever. He's never felt like this before—being so close to this many people. He and his friends ran together almost every day, becoming a kind of natural border patrol. The group of about ten of them run the perimeter, just making sure nothing was out of place while getting an excuse to shift. 

Steve spends most nights at Bucky's place, which comes with a lot of teasing from Clint and Natasha, but Steve can't find it in himself to mind. He's always had friends, but now he's one of them, and he couldn't be happier. 

They haven't mated yet—they had decided it would be best to let Steve get accustomed to being a wolf first. But it's been three months, and Steve is ready. He knows he loves Bucky. And it's not because of the soulmark. It's all the little things—the way he rubs the back of his neck when he's nervous or awkward, the way a part of him always has to be touching a part of Steve, the way he moves, the way he smiles, the way he laughs. He's beautiful, and he's Steve's. 

Steve's omega. 

And Steve _wants_ this. He wants to be mated, to be tied to Bucky in every way possible. He wants to keep Bucky in his arms for the rest of his immortal life. He's a bit scared, though, because unlike Steve, Bucky is a normal werewolf. They have abnormally long lifespans, but they're not immortal like Steve, who is a werewolf _and_ a warlock. He doesn't dwell on it too much, because it's a long way off. Hundreds of years, even, depending on what kind of fights they will most definitely get into. 

"You okay?" Sam asks, bringing Steve out of his thoughts. They're at Steve's favourite place—the willow tree by the creek—just lounging around in their hammocks. Bucky, Clint, and Natasha are far below them, since Steve and Sam has decided to scale the tree and hang theirs as high as possible. The three down there could hear them if they wanted to, but wolves are really good at ignoring things because they hear so much. 

"I'm great," Steve replies, flashing a smile. "Enjoying life."

"And love," Sam teases, and Steve just grins. "You two are disgustingly happy." 

"Feeling left out?" Steve asks, and Sam throws a leaf at him, which doesn't even reach him. It just floats down and lands on Clint's head, making the man look up. 

"You throwing shit at me?" he accuses playfully. 

"It was supposed to hit Steve . . ." Sam starts, smiling. "But that works too." 

"Throwing things at people isn't nice," Clint calls.  

"It's a fucking _leaf_ , Clinton," Natasha hisses, glaring at her mate. 

"That doesn't make it any less rude," Clint retorts, crossing his arms like a petulant child. 

"Here, you can throw it back," Sam says, opening his arms out in an invitation, turning himself off balance and sending himself face-first to the ground. There's a dull _thump_ when he hits the ground, and Steve hangs himself outside of his hammock before dropping to the ground beside his best friend, muttering a spell for a soft landing. 

"Sam?" Steve asks, but he can see Sam laughing before he even gets a look at his face. 

"Why does this shit always happen to me?" Sam groans, rolling onto his back. Steve offers a hand, and when Sam takes it, Steve hoists him to his feet. 

"Not sure what I'm more impressed by . . . " Clint says,

"The fact that Sam didn't crack a rib," Bucky continues,

"Or that Steve just dropped three stories and is fine," Natasha finishes. Steve looks up at them and then shrugs. 

"Magic," he suggests, trying to keep his smile in check. He doesn't get hurt anymore, really. His healing runes coupled with his accelerated healing abilities from the turn have made his body stronger, in a way. It takes a lot to _really_ hurt him now. 

"You've worn that joke out," Sam says, shoving Steve lightly. 

"If it ain't broke," Steve replies, shrugging. 

"Can I still throw the leaf back?" Clint calls down, and Bucky throws a shoe at him. "Fine, fine," Clint grumbles, and everyone laughs as he climbs out of his hammock and starts taking it down. 

"So, Steve . . ." Sam starts, and Steve rolls his eyes, already on his way back up the tree to grab their hammocks. Steve is ready to go home and get some sleep, if he's being honest. He loves his friends, but he needs some time to himself. 

"I'm heading out," Steve says when he gets back to the ground. "I'll see you guys later." There's a chorus of _bye_ and _see you tomorrow_ and an anxious glance from Sam, and then Steve walks far enough into the woods that he can't be seen and starts taking his clothes off. If he doesn't, they'd be ruined when he shifts, and that's no good. 

As soon as he shifts, he feels a million times better. Just him and the earth, just nature and wolf and magic and energy. There are a few sparks in the back of his head, others of his pack that are currently in wolf form, but no one is talking, there's nothing happening. So Steve runs in the quiet, happy to have some time to himself without the incessant buzzing of other people's thoughts. 

Being a wolf is kind of like being in a group chat—sometimes everyone is talking, sometimes a few people are talking, and sometimes it's completely dead. It can get annoying at times, but who is Steve to complain? 

"Hey!" Bucky calls as Steve's pulling his clothes back on. His hair is windblown and his face is red, like he'd been running. "You okay? You just kinda ran off." And yeah, Steve feels kinda bad, but he's glad Bucky's here. 

"Yeah, I just needed some space," Steve replies, throwing his boyfriend a smile to soften how harsh his words sound. "Wanna come in? My dads are out for the weekend staying at the cabin." Bucky's face lights up in a smile, and he takes Steve's offered hand. 

They go upstairs to Steve's room and Steve putters around, picking up discarded clothing and sketchbooks while Bucky clears the bed of charcoal and paints. Once it's clear, Steve pulls Bucky down and cuddles up to him, content in the silence of the evening. 

"You sure you're okay?" Bucky asks quietly, making no move to hide the concern in his voice. 

"I just needed to get away from people," Steve tries to explain. "It's not because I don't like them, but . . . I just get tired." And when Bucky nods in understanding, Steve smiles. "So what do you wanna do this weekend? My dads are at another werewolf council meeting in Topeaka till Sunday night." It's Friday, that gives them two full days and one night to themselves. Steve his hoping that sex will happen, if not mating, but if it didn't, he wouldn't be unhappy. Just being around Bucky is enough. 

"I say we wing it," Bucky says, all confidence. Steve grins and rolls his eyes. That was _not_ the answer he was looking for, but he's keeping an open mind. He's almost positive that Bucky wants Steve as much as Steve wants Bucky. "The new Star Wars just came out on Blu-ray if you wanted to watch it," Bucky suggests, and Steve lights up. He hadn't ever found the time to see it in theatres. 

"Um, yes?" Steve says, and Bucky laughs. They sit up, and when Steve looks back over at Bucky, his shirt sleeve had ridden up enough that Steve can see just a hint of the scars on Bucky's left arm. 

And this time, the brunet knows that he saw it. He looks extremely uncomfortable, and Steve doesn't want to be the cause of that, but if they're going to be together—if they're going to mate—Steve needs to know. He doesn't want any barriers between them. 

"My father was always abusive to me and my mom," Bucky says, even though Steve hadn't said anything. 

"Buck, we don't have to do this now," Steve says gently, taking Bucky's hand. The brunet sighs and squeezes Steve's hand. 

"Yeah, we do," he says. "I came home one night, and mom was . . . on the floor. She wasn't moving." Bucky chokes on a breath, and Steve's heart aches for him. "Apparently, from what I gathered, he'd hit her so hard that her head had slammed into the counter. She died almost instantly."

"Clint wasn't there?" Steve asks, and Bucky shakes his head. 

"He moved out. He wanted me to come with him, but I couldn't leave mom alone there. And I should've been there that night, I could've stopped it." He looks like he's trying not to cry now, and Steve regrets asking. "I was so _angry_ , and I went to find him. I didn't go in with the intention of hurting him, or maybe I did. That whole night is blurry around the edges. All I know is when I got there, we took it outside. He was drunk, and I took advantage of that. I didn't mean to kill him, Steve. You've got to believe me. I just meant to scare him, to make sure he knew what he did and make sure he never came near me or Clint ever again." Bucky is openly crying now, and Steve scoots over into his lap, curling around his boyfriend like he could shield him from his past. 

"Buck, he deserved it," Steve says quietly. "It may not have been your intention, but he deserved it. Your pack didn't see that?" The brunet sniffles and shakes his head. 

"My dad and the Alpha were close, and even though Victor and I were betrothed, it wasn't enough." Bucky is still talking, but Steve isn't listening. _Betrothed_? Bucky was going to be _mated_ to this guy? I mean, Steve never thought he was going to be the first, but still. "And when Clint and Nat found out, they went to him and begged for them not to kill me. Victor didn't listen to them. He gave the kill order." Bucky's gaze is far off, and Steve is glad that his boyfriend isn't looking at the expression on Steve's face. 

"No matter how much he enjoyed fucking me, it wasn't good enough to make up for me murdering his best friend—even if it was an accident," Bucky says bitterly. Steve honestly can't believe what he's hearing. From what Bucky's saying, none of his relationship with Victor was consensual. "Nat and Clint, they didn't have to come with me—they left everything they had—but they did, and we left before they could send someone after me. Before Victor could come after me and forcibly knot me, because I knew that's what he was going to do if be found me."

"Buck," Steve whispers, nuzzling his face into his boyfriend's neck.  

"We were homeless for a while, and then we came across Michael's pack, your pack. Michael was kind enough to take us in, to trust the three of us even though he had no reason to." Steve feels an overwhelming sense of pride for his father, for the kindness he shows other people. Maybe that's where Steve gets it from. Not afraid of violence, but willing to make peace as well. 

"He does that," Steve said. "He took me in as a baby. Into his _family_. I never understood why." With a watery laugh, Bucky pulls Steve tighter to his chest. 

"Because you're incredible," he says softly, dropping a kiss on Steve's head. 

"I was a _baby_ ," Steve says. "He couldn't know I'd turn out awesome." That breaks the tension, and Bucky laughs, making Steve smile. "I love you," Steve says, and Bucky stills. "We haven't said that out loud, but I know you feel it, too, and I want you to know that what you just told me doesn't change anything." Because Steve can feel it every time he touches Bucky's mark, every time Bucky touches Steve's mark when they embrace, or at night when they're together and Bucky needs an anchor. His fingers always find their way to the back of Steve's neck, where the soulmark that ties them together lies.  

"I love you, too, Stevie," Bucky says, pressing a kiss to Steve's mouth. 

"Star Wars?" Steve asks, and Bucky grins. 

"Star Wars," he agrees. 

-

Bucky is in big trouble, and Steve doesn't know what to do other than to take it to Michael. Bucky had never told his new Alpha why he'd left his old pack, but Steve is pretty sure Michael knows, or at least has an idea. 

That's why he's only mildly terrified when Michael calls Steve and Bucky for a meeting. And Steve tries to reassure Bucky that he'll be fine, that Michael will understand, but the brunet isn't having it. Bucky's flesh hand is shaking where it's clasped in Steve's as they walk into Michael's office, and Steve shoots Michael a look, questioning. His father doesn't move a muscle, no emotion shown on his face.  

"I'm going to cut right to it," Michael starts, leaning against his desk, Steve and Bucky standing awkwardly before him. "Bucky, your Alpha came looking for you earlier this morning, as I'm sure Steve has told you." A shiver wracks Bucky's whole body, and Steve leads him to a chair, hovering next to his boyfriend. And Steve had told Bucky, but all Steve knew was that he was _there_ , not what he wanted. 

"What did he say?" Steve asks, seeing as Bucky has frozen under his hands. 

"That Bucky committed a crime," Michael says, not blinking. "That he fled the scene, and that he's technically allowed to take Bucky back into his pack to deal with his punishment. Which would be death by our laws." Now Steve is frozen while Bucky fumbles to his feet and takes a step toward Michael. 

"He killed my mother," Bucky says brokenly, tears in his voice. Steve wants to get up, wants to say something, but he can't. "My father abused my mother and I. He . . . he hit her too hard and she fell into the counter and she died. I never meant to kill him, it was an accident. He was drunk, I just wanted to rough him up enough to leave me alone." Bucky's trembling and Steve is finally on his feet, coming up behind his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around his waist.  

"You can't let them take him," Steve pleads, looking over at his father. "Please."  

"We have rules, Steve," Michael says, and Steve's heart drops. "The best I can do is fight for our pack to punish him, since he belongs to us now." And Steve knows the consequences will be severe, even from Michael, but at least his father wouldn't sentence Bucky to death. 

"Whatever you can do," Steve says.

"Take him upstairs," Michael orders. "He stays here until we get this settled." Steve nods and leads Bucky out of the office and up the stairs into his own room. Bucky immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom and throws up what Steve believes is everything that was in his stomach.  

Steve goes in there and holds Bucky's hair back, runs a soothing hand down his spine. He knows this is so hard for Bucky even though he can't fully understand what he's feeling. He can feel the despair coming off of him, can smell his fear, and he doesn't know what to do other than to get Bucky in bed and call Clint to get over here. 

Ten minutes later, Bucky is asleep and Clint bursts through the door downstairs. Steve doesn't hear any footsteps on the stairs, so he figures Michael caught Clint before he could even make it past the kitchen. Better for Michael to explain than Steve. 

"Steve?" James asks, peeking in his door. Steve gets up off the bed carefully, which is hard to do since he's so big now, and comes out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "How's he doing?" His dad looks genuinely concerned, as James always is. 

"Well, he's doing well considering his old Alpha slash rapist wants him dead," Steve says harshly. James blinks, like he hadn't known that bit of information--and he probably hadn't—but James isn't going to tell anyone. 

"Michael is looking out for him," James reassures him, and Steve sighs, leaning back against the wall. "He won't let Doom have him."  

"So that's his name?" Steve asks. 

"Victor Von Doom," James says, smirking. "What a name."

"He had to make that up," Steve says, cracking a smile. 

"Probably," James says. "Tell Bucky not to worry. Even if Michael has to punish him, it won't be execution. Lashes at most, and those will heal." Steve cringes thinking of Bucky tied to a post, his own father dolling out lashes on his son's boyfriend. 

"He's already been through so much," Steve whispers. "We need to put him through more?" 

"There are rules, Steve," James says, huffing a sigh. "We don't like it any more than you do, but Michael has an obligation here—not only as an Alpha, but as a council member. If he challenges Victor for Bucky, it could mean war, worst case. At best, Michael will be able to make the decision on what kind of consequences Bucky deserves, and seeing as his asshole of a father deserved it, the punishment Michael decides on will not be as bad as it could be. He's doing his best." Steve sags a bit, sliding down the wall to sit with his knees pulled to his chest. 

"I know. And I appreciate you guys looking after him. I know you're doing all you can." James crouches next to him and ruffles his hair. "I love him, dad," Steve says quietly. "And I hate this. His father killed his mother. He abused Bucky over and over and we're going to give him back to the man that raped him repeatedly for what?  Killing the man who terrorised his family? He didn't even do it on purpose!" Steve just wants this all to go away. He wants to take Bucky somewhere secluded and shield him from this. He wants to protect him, to wrap him up in blankets and tell him everything is going to be fine.  

But he can't do that, and everything isn't fine. He has to find a way out of this. For Bucky and for himself. 

- 

"Victor isn't having it," Michael tells James, most likely pacing through the kitchen. They both think Steve is upstairs with Bucky, but when he'd come down for water, he'd heard them talking. It's only polite to not interrupt, right. 

"There must be something you can do," James says. "He's a part of the family, Michael." There's a huff, and then it's quiet for a long moment—so long that Steve considers showing himself. 

"There's nothing I _can_ do," Michael whispers, and Steve has never heard his father sound this defeated before. "He wants Bucky executed. I can declare Bucky as ours, but Victor will wage war until he has Bucky's head." 

Steve's blood runs cold. 

"It doesn't have to come to that," James says sharply. "There has to be another way. The council won't stand for this." And Steve is glad that his dad is fighting for Bucky, but Steve doesn't want war either. He's confident in his pack, but war means casualties. And casualties mean losing loved ones, which is something Steve will fight tooth and claw to prevent. 

"I'm afraid there isn't," Michael murmurs. "The council has given me permission to deal with this however I see fit. They're not getting involved." There's a pause, and then, "It would break Steve's heart to lose him." And yeah, Steve feels that coming on, but right now he's numb. He wants to move, to say something, to scream at his father for not fighting for Bucky, for one of his own.  

"Good thing it won't come to that," James replies, and there's a bit of shuffling, his parents moving deeper into the kitchen. Steve peeks around the corner to see that James has baked some kind of bread, and Michael is watching him put it away.  

Rather, he's watching James' ass. Gross. 

"He's one of ours now," Michael agrees, and Steve can't breathe. "If it comes to a fight, we fight." And Steve and hold it in anymore, so he moves and runs and catches both of his dads in a bone-crushing hug. 

"Thank you," he sobs out. He hadn't even realised he was crying. "Thank you so much." And he can't see either of their faces, but they surround him with warmth and hold him up as he cries himself out. 

When Steve finally pulls away, James' eyes are rimmed red and Michael's expression has gone soft like it only does for James and Steve. 

"Like I would do anything else," Michael says flippantly, like he's not about to wage war on another pack. "They're not taking him without a fight." Hope restored, Steve goes back upstairs to tell Bucky, and the rest of them what's happening. All of their friends had come over today, seeing as Bucky was put on house arrest by Michael. 

Natasha and Clint already knew Bucky's life story, obviously, but Tony and Sam didn't, and that's what Bucky had been telling them when Steve left. The door is cracked, and there are low voices floating into the hall. 

"The fuck happened to you?" Sam asks when Steve walks in. 

"Yeah, did you get lost?" Tony teases, and Steve sighs. 

"You forgot the water," Clint chimes in, and Steve can't help but laugh. 

"Michael and James were talking when I went down," Steve explains. Everyone shuts up and Bucky's attention snaps to him, zeroing in on Steve's eyes. His boyfriend perks up, obviously feeling Steve's positivity through the bond. "If Victor wants you, it won't be without a fight." Bucky's eyebrows raise, his posture straightening and eyes lighting up. 

"Michael is going to wage war on another pack?" Bucky asks, unbelieving. "For _me?_ " 

"I knew he would," Tony says from where he's leaning in the corner of the room. "He's one of us now."

"We'll be with you the whole time," Natasha tells Bucky. 

"We're gonna send Victor back to his pack crying like a 'lil bitch," Scott chimes in. 

"He's not going to take you," Steve says, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "You're going to be fine."

And even as Steve says the words, he begins to doubt. If Michael loses, Victor gets the pack—Bucky included. But Michael is one of the oldest wolves in this area, he's seen his fair share of battle. 

Steve is praying they all make it out alive. 

-

As it turns out, Bucky can roll a perfect joint. It's day two of seclusion in the house, and Steve and Bucky are bored out of their minds. Bucky more so than Steve, but Steve can feel it through the soulbond they've formed. 

"How did Natasha get such amazing weed?" Steve asks after taking a hit, passing the joint to Bucky. 

"I tend to not ask questions when your friend brings you a quarter and doesn't ask for any money in return," the brunet returns, passing it back. Steve takes it and takes a long hit, feeling the scorch on the back of his throat and wondering when the last time he'd gotten high was. 

"It's been two years since I've smoked," Steve says, his mind getting fuzzy. He feels his face warm and his mouth slowly dry, and he knows he's buzzed. 

"Yeah?" Bucky asks. "You ever done this?" And then the brunet takes a long hit from the joint and then kisses Steve, open-mouthed. Steve's never shot gunned before, but he knows how it works. So he inhales the smoke slowly, right out of Bucky's lungs, and Bucky pulls away, biting into Steve's bottom lip as he goes. 

Steve stares at his mate for a moment, blowing out a cloud of smoke, and then smiles. 

"Nope, never done that before," Steve says, and Bucky laughs. "But I did get really high and have James catch me with Sam out back." Bucky's eyes widen and he almost chokes on the drag he was taking.  

"No way!" he splutters, and Steve laughs. 

"He didn't care," Steve says. "He actually took a few hits with us, said he used to do it a lot when he was in college." Bucky grins and Steve finishes off the joint, flicking the end off the roof and into the grass below. It's a nice night out, not too humid, just warm. Steve can feel how close Bucky is siting to him, can feel the heat coming off of his skin. He can smell him—his omega—and he wants to do this. He wants to mate, officially. 

He wants to fuck Bucky so bad. 

But now isn't the time—not when they're high or afraid. Steve wants it to be good, wants it to be peaceful and safe. He wants Bucky to feel safe. 

So he just leans, catching Bucky's lips with his own in a kiss. 

-

It's been a week of silence. Michael and James haven't told Steve anything, and he's starting to get antsy. And Bucky . . . he hasn't been able to shift all week, and it's wearing on him. Steve tries to stay home as much as possible, and he's trying to get Michael to let Bucky out of the house, but Michael insists that this is for Bucky's safety. 

"He needs to stay here," Michael tells Steve for the fourth time that day. "We don't know if Victor will send someone to grab him, and I'd rather him be here and unhappy then out there and dead." 

"Michael," James warns. They're all sitting in the living room—Bucky included—and Steve had just brought up the concept of Steve taking Bucky out. "You can't make them stay." The older wolf lets out a groan of frustration, and Steve sags back into the couch. 

"I can take care of myself," Bucky says quietly. Steve looks over at his boyfriend to see that steel blue gaze focused on Michael. "I'm going crazy trapped in here. That's what he wants. If he can't have me, he wants to make me miserable. And I won't give him what he wants." Bucky looks at Michael expectantly, and even James turns to look at his mate. 

"He's not a prisoner," Steve's dad says quietly. "Michael, if he wants to go, we should let him go." And Steve's not sure he agrees with Bucky, but James is right--he's not a prisoner. 

"Why don't we go up to the cabin?" Steve suggests. "It's far enough away that we'll be able to shift and run, but close enough that someone can keep an eye out." Bucky sits up next to Steve like the idea had never occurred to him, and James looks at Michael expectantly. 

"All of us could go," Bucky says, looking over at Steve. "Tony, Sam, Clint, Nat . . . they couldn't take all of us unless they sent their whole pack. I _know_ these wolves." The burnet gets up and walks across the room to stand in front of Michael, who is also standing now. "Please. I promise we won't fuck up your lake home." Bucky seems to realise he's just cursed in front of his alpha, and his eyes widen. Stumbling over an apology, he takes a few steps back. James snickers off to the side and Steve laughs as quietly as he can. 

"James?" Michael asks. "You think this is a good idea?" Steve's dad gets his laughter under control and then looks at his mate. 

"I think that the heart of the pack is her young, and these young wolves are the best we've seen in a long time. I think that Steve contains in his bones more power than you give him credit for. And I _think_ that if it comes to a fight, those are the people I want protecting Bucky." James stands and crosses to Michael, wrapping an arm around his waist, and Steve walks up behind Bucky to do the same.  

"So that's a yes?" Michael says, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

"I'd say so," James agrees, and Steve looks away when his dads kiss. Because that's still gross, no matter how cute it may be.  

"Thank you," Bucky says to them, and then Steve pulls him upstairs. 

"I'll send out a text and get everyone here within the hour," Steve says, pulling duffle bags out from under his bed. "I'll tell Clint to bring your things." 

"There's no rush," Bucky says, coming up behind Steve. And Steve turns, taking his boyfriend in his arms. 

"Every second you're in pain, I'm failing you," Steve says quietly, not quite looking at his mate. "I need to get you out of here." There are fingers under Steve's chin, pulling it up. They dig in when Steve tries to pull away, and the slight discomfort makes Steve look up. 

"You're not failing me, babe," Bucky says strongly, captivating Steve with his eyes. "You're doing everything you can." Huffing a sigh, Steve moves into Bucky embrace, feels Bucky nose his way into the crook of Steve's neck and bite softly. "I love you," he whispers. Those words from Bucky . . . _God_ , they mean the world to Steve. 

"I love you, too," Steve says, kissing Bucky softly before going back to packing. "Still getting you out of here." The brunet just rolls his eyes and goes over to pack up the few belongings he has here, including the weed. When Steve raises an eyebrow, Bucky just shrugs, like that was a given, and Steve laughs. 

Everyone is at the house within the hour, and then they pile into two cars—Natasha, Tony, Peggy, and Clint in one with Steve, Bucky, and Sam in the other. It's about a two hour drive to the cabin, still deep in their territory, but out where the fringe wolves live. They're still a part of the pack—they come for meetings and to run every month, but they choose to live outside of the compound. Steve always thought that seemed a bit odd, but who is he to judge?

The cabin is spacious and modern, a total of five bedrooms, three bathrooms _and_ the master bath, two sitting rooms, a kitchen, and a basement, which they had turned into a full game room. There's a pool/ping-pong table, a stereo system, a flatscreen TV, and couches. Steve never said his parents weren't rich, he just doesn't show that off. 

There's more than enough room for the seven of them, and Steve can finally start to enjoy it once they've unpacked and settled in. Tony supplies the alcohol while Natasha supplies the weed, and they set up on patio while Bucky gets a fire going in the pit. It's a mild night, a little breezy, and the fire keeps them from shivering. 

"You put that shoe down right now, Clinton," Steve hears Natasha say, and he looks away from Bucky to see what's going on. Sam is holding in laughter and missing one shoe, that shoe being the aforementioned one in Clint's hand, and Steve grins. 

"Do it!" he calls, and Clint does, smacking Sam right in the face. Natasha looks over at Steve, making a very rude and possibly sexual gesture at him before flipping him off. 

"Must you encourage him?" Natasha asks loudly, and Clint points finger guns at Steve. 

"My man!" Clint yells, most likely very high, and Steve can't help but laugh harder. 

"Look what you've done," Bucky says. Steve hasn't even noticed his boyfriend had come to stand beside him. Leaning back into the sturdy body behind him, Steve relaxes. 

"It's funny," Steve points out, and Bucky chuckles. The night is full of laughter and jokes and friends coming together and Steve feels almost drunk on it. Or, he may actually be drunk. He's definitely high, thanks to Natasha's bong that's been passed around. 

"I could get used to this," Bucky murmurs, kissing the place behind Steve's ear. 

"All of us together?" Steve asks, and Bucky shakes his head. 

"Being with you," the brunet explains. "You make me feel safe." Pride washes over Steve at his omega's words. Bucky feels safe, and that's because of _Steve_. 

 Steve is doing something right, is doing right by his omega, and that makes him feel _alive_. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may post another part of this with an epilogue, but for Bang purposes, this is finished.

Two days later, and nothing has happened. The patrols around the cabin haven't seen any wolves from Victor's pack. It's been quiet. 

It's just past one in the morning and the house is quiet. Steve can hear Clint and Natasha watching a movie in the basement, and Tony is playing Destiny in his room. It'd been a good night, a night of laughter and smoke and camaraderie. It's warm and cozy in this bedroom, the bedroom that Steve is sharing with Bucky, and he breathes in the calm as he steps out of the shower. 

As tempting as it was to ask Bucky to join him, Steve is nothing without his control, and he knows he wouldn't have been able to control himself if Bucky was in the midst of steam and water, dripping in front of him. And he's not going to push. It will happen when it happens, and they'll both want it. 

Steve doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to push, but he's getting the feeling that Bucky is waiting on him to make the first move. He _is_ the alpha, but orientations aside, Bucky is the one in charge here. He always will be. Steve will never do anything Bucky doesn't want him to, and he needs Bucky to know that. To know that Steve respects him and his body, to know that Steve loves him unconditionally, and that Steve is with him, till the end of the line. Sex or no sex. 

"Steve?" Bucky calls, pulling Steve out of his head. "Babe, you've been in there for a while." His voice is just on the other side of the door, and Steve pulls his pants on and opens it. The brunet's eyes are wide, worried, and Steve pulls him to his chest in a hug, needing the closeness. "You okay?" Bucky asks into Steve's shoulder, and Steve can't wipe the smile off of his face. 

"I'm great," he says warmly. Because that's all he can feel right now--heat. "I'm wonderful. I'm here with you." 

"Sap," Bucky murmurs, reaching up to kiss him. "Come to bed. It's cold without you." So instead of letting Bucky lead him to the bed, he picks his mate up bridal style and kisses him firmly, no room for doubt or questions, before laying him out on the bed. Steve wants this, and the tightness in his pants is evidence of that. 

And Bucky notices. 

"I want you to," the brunet says, meeting Steve's eyes. "However this ends, I want to know in my heart that . . . us? We're real, and I want proof of that. I want to be bound to you in every conceivable way, and I want the entire world to know it." Steve's mouth is open, working to find words, but words obviously aren't what Bucky wants right now. 

Kissing, Steve can do. Getting them out of their clothes? Sure. It takes him a while, some fumbling with buttons and zippers and his pants get stuck around his ankles—he's kind of high, okay?—but it's all okay because Bucky's eyes are bright with happiness. Steve thought this was going to be awkward and it is, but Bucky is the love of his life, and they're not trying to be something they're not. They're just Bucky and Steve, exploring new things together. 

Consummating the bond. 

"Steve," Bucky gasps out. Steve has been keeping him on edge—kissing everyplace but the one Bucky needs most, touching everywhere but that one place, and Bucky is wound tight, ready to explode at first contact. Steve's own arousal is a dim light in the background—not what this is about. 

"Yeah, baby?" Steve asks, kissing down Bucky's neck to take a nipple into his mouth, biting gently before soothing over it with his tongue. Bucky's hands are in Steve's hair, on his shoulders, around his waist. His hands are everywhere, and it's heaven. 

"Too slow," the brunet mutters, and Steve finds himself on his back with Bucky on top of him. All he can do is stare, because Bucky produces lube out of nowhere and slicks his fingers, reaching back to insert one slowly, and his mouth drops open. Steve's hands flex where they are on Bucky's hips, holding him down. He can feel Bucky's cock lying thick and heavy against his own, and he needs to _do_ something. 

"Can I?" Steve asks, and when Bucky nods, Steve replaces Bucky's fingers with his own, pushing two in and revelling at the tight heat. "God," he whispers, pulling out and sinking back in, crooking his fingers in search of _that_ place. 

"Steve," Bucky moans, head dropping to Steve's shoulder, and he knows he's found it. "Need you in me." And Steve wants that, he does, but he wants Bucky to feel no pain.

"One more finger, baby," Steve croons, rubbing his other hand down Bucky's back. "Can you do that for me?" Bucky shakes his head, and then nods, and Steve rolls them over so he's on top. It's easier this way, and he pushes another finger in and works quickly to get Bucky prepared. 

But then his eyes finally shift focus from Bucky's face to Bucky's dick, and God, he needs to _taste_. 

Bucky whimpers when Steve takes him in his mouth, swallowing him to the root and crooking his fingers to rub up against Bucky's prostate.  

"Steve," Bucky chokes out after a few minutes, shoving on Steve's shoulders to push him away. Steve pulls away, afraid that he's done something wrong, but then he sees Bucky's face. The brunet is writhing, one hand clenched in the pillow above him, the other stretched out to grip the edge of the mattress. "Jesus Christ," he groans. "Why have we never done that before?" 

"You never asked," Steve says, dipping down to kiss him. 

"Need you, babe," Bucky says, pulling Steve closer, and Steve is finally satisfied that he won't hurt his mate on the push in. 

"Condom?" he asks, and then wants to smack himself. Bucky smiles, and then laughs, and Steve's face flushes.

"Really Steve?" Bucky asks, still laughing. 

"It's habit, okay?" Steve defends himself, leaning down to kiss his mate. 

"It's cute," Bucky murmurs, returning the kiss. "But I'd really like for you to fuck me now." And Steve feels like a complete idiot, but he's also glad to have someone who can laugh with him. Especially in bed. Everyone needs someone like that. 

But pushing that aside, Steve kisses Bucky slow and deep, moving so that he can slide right into the tight heat of his mate. Steve thinks he hears himself moan, and maybe he's holding onto Bucky's hips too tight, but he's never felt anything like this. 

And maybe that's because it's Bucky, because they're _mating_ and this is important. Maybe it's because Steve's magic has enveloped them, has warmed the room and lit all of the candles James likes to keep in here making it smell like vanilla and lavender. Maybe it's because Steve is so overwhelmed and so very calm at the same time. Or maybe he's just so in love, nothing else matters. 

Bucky cries out loudly when Steve bottoms out, and Steve mutters a quick spell to soundproof the room. He _really_ does not want to be interrupted right now. His skin is on fire; he can feel his soulmark burning on the back of his neck. Bucky is squirming under him and he pumps in and out, holding his mate tightly but gently. 

"Fuck, Stevie, come _on_ ," Bucky pleads, lifting his hips so Steve can fuck in deeper. And Bucky could be saying _anything_ and Steve would find it the hottest thing on this earth. Bucky's _voice_ , goddamnit. 

"Buck," Steve whispers, bringing their lips together as he picks up the pace. It feels too good, he's not going to last. Not with Bucky's nails raking down his back and those words coming out of his mouth. 

"Stevie, I'm gonna come," Bucky mutters. And when Steve looks down at him, Bucky's jaw is clenched and his head is thrown back. Bucky's fingers are digging into Steve's ass and Steve hand goes to stroke Bucky's cock once, twice, and then the brunet is coming. 

Seeing Bucky come is a religious awakening for Steve. Hair dishevelled, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, and Bucky lets out the tiniest moan of Steve's name. 

That sound is what breaks him. 

"Buck," Steve murmurs, voice cracking as Bucky squeezes around him, and Steve's knot swells as he comes, locking the two of them together. Bucky's hole is fluttering around Steve's cock and it feels like heaven. It feels like all of Steve's dreams have come true. 

And they have. 

After Steve stops shaking, when his vision returns and he has control of his body again, he moves slowly so he can lay on his side beside his mate—his _omega_ —while they're locked together. Bucky still hasn't said anything, eyes closed, but Steve will wait a moment before starting to worry. That had been intense, and he himself still can't wrap his head around it. Magic is thrumming through his veins, his soulmark still burning on his neck and he can feel Bucky's burning on his wrist where it's lying on Steve's chest. 

And then Steve notices it. 

Not all of the emotion inside of Steve is _Steve's_. 

Bucky is tired, Steve can feel that. Bone-deep exhausted and all fucked out. He's also overjoyed that he's mated, that he belongs to Steve. And he may be a bit thirsty. And _Steve is looking at me weird? What is happening?_

"Holy shit," Steve mutters, pulling out of Bucky's head. He hadn't even known those were Bucky's thoughts, not his emotions. "How?" Because Bucky would know, he's been a wolf his whole life. 

"It's the bond," Bucky says tiredly. "It ties our minds together in human form, just like it would be when we shift." 

"That makes sense, I guess," Steve replies, pulling Bucky closer to him. The brunet inhales sharply, and Steve kicks himself. The knot is still holding, still tying them together. That must've hurt. 

"It's fine," Bucky says gently, looking up at Steve. "Wipe that sad-ass look of your face, Stevie, I'm fine." That pulls a smile from Steve, and he settles back down next to his mate. "When did you light the candles?"

Bucky's asks out of nowhere. 

"They've been like that for a while, Buck," Steve says, suppressing a laugh. "You didn't notice?"

"I was a little . . . occupied," Bucky mumbles, and Steve pokes his shoulder. "A lot occupied," he corrects himself, and Steve can't hold in his laughter. He feels like he's still high, though he knows he's not. It's just Bucky. Being here, finally being _mated_ —it's Steve's dream come true. 

Five more minutes, and Steve's knot shrinks so that they can pull apart. Two minutes and some very persuasive kisses later, Steve has Bucky up and in the shower so that they can rinse off and get ready for bed. It's been a long day, and being around his friends all day has worn Steve out. He's ready for sleep, curled up against Bucky, warm and safe. 

And while they lay in bed, they are completely oblivious to the wolves approaching the house.  

- 

It's quiet, and it hasn't ever been quiet in this house since they got here. There's always someone awake, always someone stomping down the stairs or playing pool in the basement with their music on. It's just past three in the morning when Steve wakes up, and it's too quiet.  

When he looks over at his mate, Bucky is sleeping soundly—mouth open, hair in his face—on Steve's right. There's a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, like something has happened, but he can't place his finger on it. 

Something clanks outside by the shed, and that's when Steve gets up to investigate. He's always trusted his instincts, and this is no exception. He's here to keep Bucky safe, and he's not going to sit by and let something happen when he could've stopped it. 

On his way down the stairs, he stops by Natasha and Clint's room, knocking on the door before entering. There's no one there. So he goes down the hall and check everyone else's rooms—same result: no one there. One a whim, he checks Sam's room before he goes downstairs, and yes, he's in there. 

"Sam!" Steve whisper-yells. His best friend jerks awake, and he sits up in his bed. 

"Steve, what the hell, man?" 

"There's someone outside the house," Steve says, keeping his voice low. "The others aren't in their rooms and they aren't inside anywhere either." Sam is wide awake now, pulling on clothes and joining Steve in the hall. 

"Where's Bucky?" Sam asks, and Steve looks over to their door. 

"He's still sleeping," Steve replies, and Sam looks at him sharply. 

"You left him alone?" Sam raises an eyebrow. "Is that a good idea?" And Steve sighs, going to wake his mate. Sam follows, not one to go off on his own in situations like these. 

"Buck," Steve says, shaking the brunet awake. Bucky rolls over, eyes opening. 

"What's going on?" he asks, peering over at Sam. Steve can feel the spike in Bucky's anxiety, and he trips over his words to comfort his mate. 

"It's okay, Bucky. We're fine. We just . . . we can't find anyone else." Steve watches as Bucky starts to panic, as he starts throwing clothes on. He's mumbling to himself— _knew this would happen, don't know why I agreed to this, should've just gone back, should've let Victor have me._

"Stop," Sam says apprehensively from the doorway. Bucky looks over at him, eyes cold and stormy. "It won't do them any good. We'll get through this." Steve goes over and takes Bucky's hand, trying to combat the negative energy swirling inside of his mate. 

Steve feels a pull in his magic, like a string pulled tight to the point of breaking, and then he knows. 

"Someone's broken through my wards," he tells Bucky and Sam. "They're here." Steve can taste the panic coming off of Bucky, but Sam stays calm. 

"So we fight," Sam says. "Bucky and I will shift. Steve, your magic is our biggest asset." And Steve knows his best friend is right, knows that this is the fight that matters. "Bucky, you go see if you can find the others, I'll create a diversion for you. And Steve?" Sam snaps his fingers, bringing Steve out of the haze of panic. "Call Michael, tell him what's going on, and then secure the perimeter. No one gets out, no one gets in."

"I don't want to kill anyone," Steve murmurs, and Bucky squeezes his hand. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, but his omega is in danger, and Steve's instincts are telling him to shed blood. He doesn't trust himself. 

"Then knock them out," Sam says. "Secure the house with protection spells, that's our ground zero. Steve, you need to stay in the house." And Steve's head snaps up, because,

"Fuck no," he exclaims. "Bucky isn't leaving my sight." Steve pulls his mate in close, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist like they could protect him. 

"Steve, we need you here," Sam explains. "And we don't have time to discuss it. I'll look out for him. You'll know if he's okay or not; you're mated!" And Steve knows his best friend is right, and he knows they have to go now. 

"You alert me at the _hint_ of danger," Steve tells Bucky. "Okay? And keep me updated." Pulling Bucky into a kiss, Steve clings a bit harder than usual. Because as much as things could go well, they could also go very badly very easily. "Go," he tells them, and they go down the stairs together while Steve goes up to the top floor. 

When he used to come up here with his parents, he would always climb up onto the roof from the attic to smoke. It has the best vantage point, so Steve climbs the stairs to the attic. James knew he did this, but as far as Steve knows, Michael has no clue. And if Michael did know, Steve's afraid his father would be disappointed. Not because Michael is against pot, but because Steve, as the son of the Alpha, is supposed to be the role model for all of the other young wolves. 

And Steve has been a pretty shit role model. 

So he sucks in a breath and heaves himself out of the window and onto the roof. He takes in his surroundings for a moment, and then dials the number. 

"Steve?" Michael asks, answering on the first ring. 

"They're here, and it's just me, Bucky, and Sam cause we can't find anyone else and I don't know if they're okay or not and I don't know what to do." Steve is breathing heavily, panic fusing with the cells of his brain and coursing through his blood. Victor's pack has almost completely surrounded the cabin, and Steve tells Michael this as well. 

"You need to put spells around the house," Michael tells him.

"I'm doing that now," Steve replies, letting his mind slip into the spell. Michael's voice is soothing on the other end of the phone, and Steve lets the energy flow through him and out of him to form walls between the intruders and the house.

"Okay, how many are there?" his father asks, and Steve looks around. 

"Looks like the whole pack, like Bucky said." And it's really is—at least fifteen wolves all together, fanned out in a circle about fifteen yards from the cabin. 

"Your job is to incapacitate them," Michael advises him. "Don't kill them unless you have to, just knock them out until you can find your friends. Then you tie them up until we get there." Michael sounds so calm, and it's rubbing off on Steve. His father has faith in him to do this, to protect his mate and his friends. 

"Are they here to kill us?" Steve asks. "Do you think Victor would kill to get to Bucky?" 

"Most likely," Michael says, a hint of anger in his voice. "If even one of you is hurt, they'll pay for it." And Steve knows that his father means that. He's fiercely protective of his pack, and loyal to a fault. He claimed Bucky as his, and he'd fight to the death for one of his own. 

And Steve? Steve won't let anyone hurt Bucky, not ever. 

"I've got to go," Steve says, seeing the pack start to move in closer. "I'll keep you updated. 

"Be safe, Steve. We love you." 

"I love you, too." Steve hangs up the phone and focuses on finishing the wards. 

_Steve, they were down at the lake_ , Bucky tells him. _We're on our way bac_ k. 

_The only way into the house is through them_ , Steve says. _You'll have to fight._

_Nat says fuck yeah_ , Bucky replies. Steve can't hear the others since he's not in wolf form, but he can hear his mate loud and clear, can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. _We'll be okay,_ Bucky tries to reassure him. _We've got you looking out for us._

_They've surrounded the cabin,_ Steve says _. Bucky, be safe._

_I can take care of myself,_ Bucky replies, with just a hint of indignation. 

_I know you can, baby. But I just got you. I can't lose you._ Steve is protective of Bucky, his mate, his omega. He knows that Bucky can fight, that he can protect himself, but it makes Steve feel almost worthless that he isn't down there to fight with him. 

_Have you pinpointed Victor?_ Bucky asks, changing the subject. Steve casts out his power, trying to find the man responsible for this witch hunt, but to no avail. 

_He's not here_ , Steve seethes. _Or he's cloaked himself in some way so that I can't find him._

_Fuck,_ Bucky mutters. _Well, we're going in._

_Keep your eyes open._

If Steve relaxes into it enough, he can see what Bucky sees. But that doesn't do them any good, so he focuses on the circle of wolves around the cabin. Steve'd been told stories about warlock's powers, about _his_ powers, but he's never really tried to use the full extent of his magic before 

But he is now. Because his mate and his friends are in danger. He connects with as many of the intruders' minds as he can, and then sends them to sleep. 

Five wolves drop. 

He does it again, and two more pass out. But the fighting has begun now, and Steve can hear the snarls—not just from Bucky's mind, but from the actual fight happening twenty yards from the roof he's standing on. 

_Get to the house_ , Steve tells Bucky. Because if they could just get inside, Steve could protect all of them. 

_Trying to_ , Bucky hisses back, clawing down some wolf's face. Steve can almost feel the spray of blood against his face. The claws raking down his back. The pain is lightning hot, and Bucky goes down. 

_Bucky!_

Steve is done with this. He can feel Bucky's pain, and he's done. In a fit of rage, Steve jumps off of the roof, landing in a crouch with his hands on the ground, fingers splayed out over the earth as his wills it to move. 

_Go_ , he instructs Bucky, and the ground starts to shake. The air is vibrating with Steve's rage, with the emotion flowing from his body into the ground. A few trees fall in the distance, and that's when Steve knows it's time to back off. Bucky and the others have fled into the house, and the opposing pack is shaken enough to back down for now. 

_Where are you?_ Bucky asks, and Steve can just feel the turmoil inside of his mate. The pain. He texts James, telling his dad what's happening, and then pockets his phone.

_I'm on my way to you,_ Steve replies. His omega is hurt, is in pain and Steve needs to be by his side. So he makes his way into the house, jogging through rooms until he finds them in the game room. 

Bucky is lying face down on the couch with Natasha and Sam bent over him, trying to clean his wounds. And it looks bad. The towels they have him laying on are soaked in blood and he's shaking. 

" _Steve_ ," he breathes when Steve kneels beside him. The brunet smiles softly at him, pain mixed with the pleasure of seeing his mate, and Steve's heart aches. "Heya, doll. How you doin'?" Bucky's words are coming out slowly, and he'd never call Steve _doll_ in front of their friends. 

"I gave him a joint," Clint says. And when Steve looks over at him, half surprised and half angry, Clint throws his hands up, palms facing Steve. "For the pain. 

"Buck," Steve says, returning his attention to his mate. "How bad is it? One to ten." Steve needs to know, because he can feel Bucky's pain—every stabbing breath—but it's almost detached, in a way. Like Steve is feeling it through a wall. 

"Ten," Bucky gasps out. "It's a ten." And Steve knows then that he has to heal Bucky, at least partially, but that's a huge drain on his energy. _Fuck it_ , he thinks. The wards are already up, and if all else fails, they're all good fighters. Michael will send back up. He has to heal Bucky _now_. 

"This is gonna hurt," Steve warns Bucky, before placing his hands directly on the wounds. Words are coming out of Steve's mouth to drown out Bucky's scream, and magic hums in the room. It's warm and inviting, and Steve lets himself be taken by the spell, muttering words so low he can barely hear himself. 

Pain stabs into Steve's heart at the whimpers his mate is letting out, but he doesn't stop. 

There are hundreds of thoughts running through Bucky's head, and Steve hears every one of them. _What is he doing, Steve, oh god, I thought he loved me! Why is he doing this to me? What is happening? Fuck, Steve, no!_

Bucky's holding his breath. He's realised how this is affecting Steve, and he's trying to hold it all in. But the damage has been done, and Steve's heart breaks. It just . . . crumbles. Hearing Bucky's say that— _I thought he loved m_ e—its Steve's worst nightmare.

And Steve can't do anymore, his knees are weak and his hands are shaking, so he pulls away and retreats to the floor where he sits down hard. 

Immediately, Steve puts his face in his hands--they're still warm from where the magic flowed out—it’s almost comforting. While he knows that Bucky forgives him, he's still focused on the fact that to heal Bucky, he had to hurt him. To suspend the brunet in seemingly unending agony brought on by the man he thought loved him. 

"It's fine," Steve mutters, getting up. Everyone is staring at him, and for good reason. No one else heard what happened. "I'm fine." He glances over just enough to see that the wounds on Bucky's back are just scars, and shuffles towards the door. 

"Steve wait," Bucky says, sitting up like he's going to move towards Steve. His hair is in his face and his mind is a mess of thoughts—Steve doesn't look into them. He doesn't want to know. 

"I'm going to go call Michael, make sure everything is okay outside." And then Steve scrambles out of the room and into the kitchen. But what he needs right now isn't Michael, so he calls James. 

"Are you hurt?" is how James answers his phone, and Steve's heart warms a bit. 

"I'm not hurt," Steve reassures him. "Bucky got hurt pretty badly, and I healed him." The other end of the line is silent, so Steve goes on. "And you know how much it hurts, it's like cramming a three-month recovery's worth of pain into under ten minutes. And I did that to _him_ , of all people." And now that Steve's talking about it, he can't stop. And James just sits patiently on the line, listening and making sounds of affirmation or sympathy every now and then. 

"Steve, the thing is that you _know_ Bucky didn't mean it," James says finally. "And you have to give credit where credit is due—you didn't tell him before you did it." And he's right about that. Steve could have told him, but in his panic, it escaped his mind. "He _loves_ you, Steve. And he knows you love him." James is right, Steve shouldn't let this get to him. He knows that Bucky was in pain and not fully aware of what was happening, so he takes a deep breath and let's it out. 

He's gotten fairly good at controlling his emotions, and this is one of the times where he needs his meditation skills. Focusing on the anger and hurt, he breathes it in, and the out. And it's gone. 

"Steve?" Bucky asks, and Steve turns to see his mate leaning heavily on the door frame. "Can we talk?" And he sounds so heartbroken. Steve curses himself for putting Bucky through all of this. 

"I love you," Steve says, going to his mate and pulling him into a tight but gentle embrace. He's careful of the wounds on Bucky's back. They're not completely healed, but they've been reduced to only needing a few stitches—and Steve is sure that Sam already did them. "I love you so much," he whispers, still clinging to Bucky. 

"Steve, I don't—" but instead of finishing, Bucky decides to kiss him, and Steve is perfectly fine with that. After everything that has happened tonight, he needs it. 

"Everything's fine," Steve murmurs. "We're okay. You're okay." Because Bucky is crying now, and Steve might be, too. He can't tell where his emotions begin and end--they're twisted and swirled into Bucky's. 

"You're giving me whiplash, Stevie," Bucky mumbles into Steve's shirt, and Steve smiles. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Everything is fine, I'm sorry." And that's when Bucky looks up, eyes so _blue_ , and gives him the tiniest smile. 

"You saved my life," the brunet whispers. "You save my life and _apologise_ , for fuck's sake." And then Bucky's kissing him again, and Steve lets him. They don't have much time, but they have time for this. Because they need it. 

"You don't leave my sight until this is finished," Steve tells him. Bucky's eyes widen, but he doesn't protest. 

"Bossy," the brunet mutters, and Steve pokes him in the side. 

"You love it," he fires back, and Bucky smiles up at him. 

"I love you," Bucky says seriously. "But I'm not just going to sit here and do nothing while my friends fight my battles for me." But Steve has other plans. He would never ask Bucky to be stagnant in the midst of a fight—it's against their nature. Bucky would never agree to it. 

_God_ , Sam is going to kill him. 

"You won't be doing nothing," Steve says. "Because me and you? We're gonna find Victor. We're going to end this." His mate smiles, and Steve goes to tell the others. 

_It'll be over soon_ , Steve tells Bucky. But he's also reassuring himself. This is a fight Steve isn't sure he can win alone. But with Bucky at his side, Steve is invincible. There's no power on earth that could stop them together, Steve believes that. He puts his faith in that, and squares his shoulders. 

_It'll all be over soon._

-

Steve was right—Sam _does_ want to kill him. But instead, being the good person Sam Wilson is, he offers his help. And Steve gratefully accepts, knowing that's there's really no other choice. Steve had gone into this thinking he would be alone, but now he's going in with the two people closest to him—the two people he trusts completely to always have his back—and he feels calm. 

Steve gets to work setting up for the tracking spell while Sam and Bucky brief the others on what's about to happen. Steve's never used this much magic in one day, and it feels good to cut loose. He has all of this power inside him, and Michael has worked so hard to make sure Steve knows how to handle it, but training is nothing compared to the real deal. He feels like his blood is singing, just waiting to be unleashed on the poor souls trying to take his mate away. 

It kind of scares him, honestly, and he calls Michael with his concerns. He explains that they're going after Victor, and that no, he's not going alone. Yes, he'll use his magic wisely and yes, they're going to kill him. Michael can't really tell Steve not to kill the man endangering Bucky's life, and even if he did, Steve isn't sure he'd listen. He's too driven by the fact that it's kill him, or Bucky is going to die. 

Only one will die tonight, and it's not Bucky. 

"I want you to promise me you'll be careful," Michael says. "Don't underestimate Victor—he's an Alpha for a reason. And come home safely, Steve." Michael's voice goes soft at the end, and Steve sniffles a bit. 

"I love you, dad," Steve murmurs. "I'll come home, I promise." It's bittersweet, this goodbye. Because Steve is confident in himself and his friends, but they've never had to fight other wolves like this. They—with the exception of Bucky—have no real life battle training. 

Michael is feared throughout all of the werewolf packs in the US for things he did almost a lifetime ago, and no one has challenged his leadership. It gives Steve an edge that he wouldn't have had, and for that, he's grateful. Victor will be apprehensive of him, of what Steve can do—of what Michael taught Steve to do. Because while the other young wolves got combat practise with each other, Steve was trained personally by his father. And Michael knows a lot about using magic to help in a fight.

He taught Steve how to layer spells over himself and his weapon of choice. Spells that make it so a bullet will always hit its mark, so that claws cut through flesh like a knife through softened butter. Hexes to weaken his opponent, curses to crush his enemies. And Michael taught him all of this so that he could protect himself and what is his. 

Bucky is his. 

"C'mon, doll," Bucky murmurs from behind Steve, and Steve whips around to face him. Bucky makes a startled noise when Steve pulls him into a hug, but settled in quickly and returns the embrace. "What's this for?" the brunet asks into Steve's neck. 

"I just love you, is all," Steve replies, dropping a kiss on Bucky's forehead. 

"We'll be fine, Stevie," Bucky reassured him, running a hand through Steve's hair. "We'll have Sam, and we'll have each other. You're more powerful than you know." And Steve knows that Bucky is right, but it doesn't calm his nerves. He has too much pent-up energy from everything that's happened tonight, and he needs to _do_ something. 

"Let's go," he says, and Bucky follows him out of the house and onto the back deck where Sam is waiting. 

"Ready?" Sam asks, looking warily between Steve and Bucky. He knows something’s up, and knowing Sam, he already knows what it is. He's knows Steve's face, how he operates. 

"We're good," Steve replies, and Sam and Bucky step away to shift. Steve's eyes don't leave his mate as his skin ripples, and he bursts out of his flesh as a new creature. Shifting still mesmerises Steve, and he doesn't think that's ever going to change. 

_Let's go,_ Bucky says, and Steve follows them at a jog as they race through the woods. _You've got a trace on Victor?_

_He's right ahead, in the clearing,_ Steve replies. 

_We'll have to fight our way through_ , Bucky warns, but Steve has other plans. As soon as he clears the trees and is in the open, Steve flings his hand out, throwing half of Victor's pack to the ground. The other wolves try to attack, but Steve is ready. He holds up his hand, summoning the power inside of him and pushes, throwing the wolves back and into the trees. 

"Stop hiding behind your pack!" Steve yells at Victor, advancing on the wolf. "You coward! You'd rather your entire pack die for you than stand down." Steve approaches the older man slowly, testing the waters. Victor hasn't shifted, which means he expected his pack to do the bulk of the fighting. 

Not today. 

_He favours his left hand_ , Bucky tells Steve. Sam and Bucky have fallen back, making sure Victor's pack doesn't come to his rescue. Nat and Clint will come up with Tony in a few minutes to get Victor's pack back to Michael.  

Steve moves so that he's coming at Victor from his left--the Alpha's right--and takes a few steps forward.  

"You think you're a big deal because you're Michael's?" Victor spits. "You're nothing but an orphan, Steven Rogers." That stings, but Steve doesn't let it get to him. He knows Michael and James love him. And that's not what this is about. 

"You've fucked with the wrong family, Victor," Steve tells him. "You've come to take someone that isn't yours, and I have it on good authority that you're not going to stop until you have him." Steve takes a deep breath, and lets it out. There's a breeze rushing through the trees, cool air hitting Steve's back, and he looks right at Victor. 

"What are you going to do, little warlock?" the Alpha jeers, taking a step forward like he's going to attack. Bucky growls from behind Steve, but Steve holds his hand out, warning Bucky to stay back. 

"I'm not going to do anything, really," Steve says, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not my life to take." And that's when Victor figures out what's about to happen. "It can either be painless and quick, or we can make it _hurt_ , like you hurt us." The older man laughs then, and starts to shift, but Steve stops him mid-shift. 

_Not this time,_ Steve hears Bucky say, but he isn't paying attention. This is taking a lot more energy than Steve suspected. He's keeping the wards around the cabin up as well as protection spells around each of his friends and extra on Bucky. There's wards around the clearing so that none of Victor's wolves can come help him, and Steve is keeping Victor from shifting. On top of that, he's already weakened from healing Bucky earlier and he doesn't think he can hold everything much longer. 

Steve's vision is fading, and Steve feels his grip on Victor slipping as the Alpha shifts. 

_Do it now_ , Steve tells Bucky, and Steve vaguely hears Bucky relay the message to Sam. But Victor is already on Steve, throwing him to the ground and clawing at anything he can reach. Steve feels chunks of flesh being ripped out, bones cracking and blood pouring out onto the grass. 

Both of them pounce on Victor--Sam holding him down while Bucky works to tear out his throat. Victor lets go of Steve as soon as they have him, and Steve uses his remaining strength to hold onto the wards around Bucky as his vision goes dark. 

 -

When Steve was sixteen, he caught pneumonia over Christmas. At first, he thought he was having an asthma attack. He'd had those quite often and had tried using his inhaler, but one hour and a trip to the ER later, and Steve knew this was much worse than an asthma attack. Both his dad's were worried, and Steve had _never_  seen Michael worried. 

For hours, maybe days, Steve sprawled in the stiff hospital bed and hacked, throat and chest burning. It felt like he couldn't breathe, and for a while, he thought he was dying. And when he told James that, his dad looked so terrified that Steve didn't bring it up again. Steve knew he was sickly, he knew his immune system was weak, and he knew that he may not go back home. 

But death didn't scare him, not really. _It's inevitable_ , Michael says. _All living things have a cycle, and all living things die. Even warlocks die--from sickness or accident or suicide. Immortal beings die every day, they just usually get a little more time than everyone else._  And Steve was ready to face it, against his stubborn nature. So when Michael came to talk to him about it, Steve was ready. 

But Michael said nothing about dying. He didn't say anything about Steve's situation at all, really. He only said that he was going to invite Steve's friends to the hospital for Christmas, and that they would do gift exchange here instead of home like normal. He didn't even hint about Steve not making it through, only how he'd gotten Steve a great present and was excited about it.  

(It was a grimoire that had apparently belonged to Michael's father, and it taught Steve a lot of what he knows about magic).

They had Christmas at the hospital and Steve got better, but he never forgot that Christmas. Not because of the gifts or the unusual circumstances, but because over that Christmas, Steve came to terms with death and overcame his fear of the unknown.  

Now death can't touch him. If he doesn't fear it, it has no hold over him. 

He's free.  

-

Steve feels an overwhelming need to _wake up_. Something is wrong, something has happened to Bucky, Steve can feel it. He doesn't know where he is, and he doesn't know where Bucky is, but he's _hurt_. 

_Wake up_. 

He can't hear anything, can't see anything, but he just knows that he lost against Victor. Because why else would Bucky be in so much pain right now? Why would Steve's mark be burning like it does when Bucky is in distress? 

_Wake up._  

Steve can feel the pain now, his entire body throbbing with it. He wants to scream, but he can't. 

_Wake up_. 

Sounds are filtering in--white noise at first, but then he can hear someone mumbling to themselves. 

_Wake up, wake up, wake up wake up wake up._

"Wake up, Stevie, please." It's Bucky and Steve's eyes open, searching for the eyes of his other half. Bucky's eyes are red and puffy and Steve may be in the most excruciating pain he's ever experienced, but his mate's eyes quiet all of that, soothing the chaos in Steve's head. 

"Where are we?" Steve asks, voice rough. "Where's Victor?" Looking over his mate, Steve comes to the conclusion that Bucky's mostly unharmed--no visible wounds, anyway. 

"He's dead, Stevie," Bucky whispers, and Steve's eyes flutter closed. "We did it. He's really gone." When Steve doesn't say anything, Bucky gives him the story of what happened after Steve blacked out. Bucky and Sam had gotten Steve back to the cabins immediately called Michael, who came up with James. Steve had been healing so quickly, there was really no use in taking him to a hospital. The runes coupled with werewolf magic had made it so he should be healed within hours, and his body just needs rest to fully recover. He hurts all over, and the healing magic is a deep ache in his bones, but he's alive. 

"Victor's pack belongs to us now," Bucky says, sitting on the bed beside him, and Steve's eyes fly open. Bucky smiles, and shrugs. "Yeah, that's what I thought. But Michael went and took their territory while they were all out here. There was no one to defend it." And that makes sense, that Michael would take Victor's territory, and Steve wonders if that was Michael's plan all along. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, worry bubbling up. "You're not hurt?" 

"I'm fine," Bucky whispers, leaning down to grant Steve a soft kiss. "Everyone is fine. We're all safe and you're awake now and everything is okay." Bucky looks like he's about to cry, so Steve pulls him close, making room for him on the bed so he can curl up there. 

"Yeah, Buck, I'm right here. No one's gonna take you away from me." Steve runs his fingers through his mate's hair, soothing and comforting. He feels an overwhelming sense of joy that he's alive, that he's here with Bucky, and he holds the brunet as close as he can, limbs tangled together. 

There's a knock on the door, and it opens far enough for James to poke his head in.  

"Are you two fully clothed?" he asks, and Bucky sniggers into Steve's shoulder. Steve throws a pillow in the general direction of the door as James walks in, and his dad laughs. "Can't ever be too sure with new mates. Let me tell you, your father and I—" 

"That's enough, dad," Steve says sharply, because _gross_. James crosses the room, still chuckling to himself before sitting down in the chair by the bed. 

"How're you feeling?" James asks, and Steve sighs. 

"I'll be fine in a few hours," Steve replies. "I just want to sleep, honestly. Where's Michael?" 

"He called an emergency meeting with the council to have the territory records changed," his dad explains. "They have to make sure no one can challenge the transfer." And Steve is at the point where he's just nodding now, too tired to string words into sentences to form a verbal response. 

"But we're safe?" Bucky asks, looking down at Steve and then back up at James. "We're good to stay here for a little while?" Because they need time. Time to recover, to talk—there's still a lot Steve doesn't know. 

"You two can stay as long as you want," James reassures Bucky. "And we'll have the house ready for you when you come back." That piques Steve's interest. He'd given James and Michael plans he'd drawn up for a cabin a few months ago, but he hadn't thought they'd already gotten someone to start building it. 

"The house?" Bucky asks, looking over at Steve, but he shakes his head. 

"We'll talk about it later," Steve promises, and Bucky shoots him a look before looking back at James. 

"Take care of him," James says to Bucky, and then he exits the room quietly. Steve knows Bucky is waiting for an explanation, but his head is pounding and all he wants to do is sleep. His mate seems to recognise that, and Steve pulls him in and gets comfortable. 

"I love you," he whispers, just loud enough for Bucky to hear. 

"Love you back," the brunet replies, and the room falls silent as Steve drifts off into sleep. 

- 

They stay at the cabin for two weeks, and in that time, Bucky tries to coax Steve into talking about his near-death experience. It's so frustrating because Steve knows his mate is just trying to help, because Steve has been standoffish lately, but Steve doesn't want to talk about it. It's over, it's done, there's nothing to talk about. Steve was reckless and almost got himself killed—he's gotten that lecture from Michael already, thank you very much—and he knows what not to do next time. 

_If_ there's a next time. 

So the last night at the cabin before they go home, Steve makes dinner for his mate. Bucky is out somewhere, said he was going for a run, so Steve figures he has about two hours. He was a little hurt when Bucky didn't invite him along, but they still need time to themselves even though they're mates. They're honestly starting to get on each other's nerves. It'll be easier when they go back home and get into a rhythm. 

At least, that's what Steve hopes. 

He knows Bucky is frustrated with him, but it's not like he hasn't listened to Bucky's arguments. He just doesn't want to talk about it. Because what is there to talk about? What it feels like to die? The pain? The fear? Steve doesn't want to talk about any of that. He doesn't want to relive it. And he sure as hell doesn't want to watch Bucky's face as Steve talks about it. 

So he makes dinner, hoping he can smooth things over. Everything is about done and Steve keeps looking at the clock because Bucky should be home by now. There's a voice in the back of Steve's head telling him that something is wrong, but Steve can feel Bucky on the other side of the bond and he's fine from what Steve can tell. If Bucky was hurt or if something had happened, Steve would know. 

But the minutes are passing fast and eventually, Steve starts to put dinner away. Bucky can reheat it when he gets home. Feeling disappointed, Steve wanders back into their room and decides he's going to bed early. It seems like Bucky's going to be out for a while, and he has nothing better to do. Anyways, he's tired, and it couldn't hurt. 

But then he hears footsteps and the front door opens and he pauses before continuing to ready himself for bed. He can't say he's not frustrated with his mate, but he takes a deep breath and gets into bed, trying to clear his mind. If he could only get a couple hours of sleep, he'd be fine. 

But lately he hasn't been sleeping at all. Nightmares plague him when he closes his eyes—visions of Bucky's bloody body with Victor standing over him—so he lays awake at night, only ever pretending to sleep so that Bucky won't ask questions. 

Maybe Bucky has the right to be worried. Steve is a mess.  

"Steve?" Bucky asks, having come to stand in the doorway. Steve doesn't move, content to let Bucky believe he is asleep. After a beat, Bucky moves back into the kitchen. 

"Stupid idiot," Steve hears his mate say, and at first Steve thinks Bucky is talking about him. "He made dinner and you weren't home for it." He's talking to himself, Steve realises. 

He hears Bucky's phone vibrate in his pocket—his hearing is that good now—and Bucky answers it. There's a female on the other end—most definitely Natasha—but Steve can't make out what she's saying. 

"He made me dinner," Bucky says into the phone, and there's a pause while Natasha replies. It seems that Bucky's quite upset about missing dinner, and Steve really should go out there and reheat everything so that they can talk, but he's still not ready to get up. "I should have been home. He’s trying.” Another pause while Natasha relipes, and then, “He's not sleeping, Nat," Bucky says as Steve listens in. "He doesn't eat much, he's lost a lot of weight. And he won't talk to me about it. Why won't he talk to me about it?" And his mate sounds so heartbroken that Steve gets out of bed and moves so that he can lean against the doorframe. 

Bucky is leaning against the counter in the kitchen. From this angle, it's unlikely that he even notices Steve, so Steve stays where he is, eavesdropping. 

He doesn't feel bad about it.

"I've tried!" Bucky exclaims, and then lowers his voice. "I've tried, Nat. I've tired everything I can think of. I've even called James and asked what he would do. Nothing's worked." So James knows about Steve's state, and that's no good. Steve's hadn't wanted his parents to know. Oh, he's going to get a stern talking to when they get back. 

Steve is considering revealing himself right as Bucky starts to cry. And Steve's seen his mate cry before, but it gets him every time. Because even though Steve is the alpha, Bucky's always been the strong one. 

"I just don't know how to help someone who won't let me in," Bucky murmurs, so low that Steve can barely hear. "I love him and I can't help him and it's _killing_ me." 

And that's it. Steve needs to stop being selfish, he needs to stop bottling everything up. Because relationships are about communication and trust, and Steve is showing neither of these right now. He'd never thought that it would hurt Bucky this much, and he's finally ready to talk about it. So he steps into the room so that Bucky sees him, and waits.  

"I gotta go, Nat," the brunet says, and then hangs up. "I thought you were asleep," he says to Steve, and Steve shrugs, going over to stand by his mate. Bucky immediately burrows into Steve arms and holds on tight, tears still flowing. "How much did you hear?" 

"Enough," Steve replies, holding onto Bucky as he falls apart. "I didn't know it was hurting you like this, Buck—me not talking about what happened." The brunet just sniffles and nuzzles further into Steve's chest, hiding his face as much as possible. 

"Didn't want you to feel pressured," he mutters, and Steve sighs. It's time. 

"C'mon, let's go outside." And Bucky must understand what Steve wants because he grabs the papers and their bag of weed and follows him out onto the patio. And while Steve rolls the blunt, he starts to talk. "It's like it all happened in slow motion," he starts. "One minute I'm in control and everything is fine and the next I could feel a significant drain on my energy. I was trying to hold wards on too many people, and on top of that, I was keeping Victor from sifting. I was just . . ." he trails off as he licks the edge of the wrapper to seal it, and grabs a lighter to dry it out. "I was just so afraid of losing you, you know? Or Sam. Anyone, really. I felt like the weight of your lives was on my shoulders." He lights the blunt and takes a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before hitting it again and handing it to his mate. 

"Go on," Bucky encourages, and so Steve does. As the blunt gets smaller and smaller, Steve lets everything out. It's easier, telling this story while he's high. Words come more naturally, even if he forgets what he was saying a few times. It feels so good to talk about this, the complete opposite of what he'd thought it'd feel like. And he feels terrible that he put Bucky through so much out of fear of this—talking. 

He'd thought it would bring back too much, that it would hurt just too much to talk about. But he feels . . . liberated. And by the time he's done with his story, with all the nightmares and long nights awake, he feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest. 

And Bucky looks horrified. 

Now _this_ is what Steve was looking to avoid. 

"I felt it when you went down," Bucky murmurs. Steve's eyes widen through the haze of smoke. "It was terrifying, seeing you under the man who abused me. It's like time stopped as my brain ran through every possible outcome, and I was so scared, Stevie. But I heard you, what you said, and I got him off of you. It was just . . . too late." Steve is frozen, listening to his mate talk. And Steve thinks that maybe Bucky needs this more than Steve does. 

Bucky tells him about bringing him back to the house, about Sam making him wait outside while he cleaned the wounds. He stumbled over his words, losing his place in his story, and then starts to cry. Steve ushers the brunet into his arms and holds onto him, kissing his shoulders and his neck to soothe him, but Bucky isn't finished. He pulls away so that he can face Steve, and drops his gaze. 

"You have nightmares," he whispers, and Steve stiffens. "You talk in your sleep. And you shake and you scream and when I wake you up you have the audacity to lie to me and say you're fine." Bucky's getting angry, and Steve feels a lecture coming. But he's ready to listen. He's been ignoring how his mate feels for too long. 

"I'm sorry," Steve offers. "I'm really sorry, Buck." But Bucky's continuing like Steve hadn't said anything. 

"You don't leave the house, I don't think you've shifted for at least a week--it's not good for you, Steve. You need to get out there. You need to run. You need to shift and be a wolf. I know you're part warlock, but the wolf side of you is getting antsy, I can tell. And you need to stop lying to me. Promise me." Bucky looks over at Steve, and he nods. 

"I will never lie to you again," Steve vows. "I'm so sorry for all of this. And really, thank you for talking some sense into me. I always knew you were the smart one in this relationship." His mate smiles and shoves him, muttering something that sounds like _sap_ under his breath. "I love you," Steve whispers, and Bucky leans back into Steve. Just like that, they’re fine again. 

"I love you too." Bucky presses up against Steve's chest and looks up at the sky. It's a beautiful clear night, not a cloud in sight and no pollution hiding the stars. It's peaceful.  

"Let's go in," Steve suggests, and he pulls his mate to his feet. They both stumble a bit going inside, but laughter has finally filled this house again and Steve is glad for it. He was sick of secrets and not meeting Bucky's eyes out of shame.  

Because a small part of Steve was worried Bucky would leave him if he couldn't control the nightmares. It's a lot to ask of Bucky to be woken up at all hours of the night helping Steve through his nightmares. But Steve should've known better. He knows Bucky and he knows Bucky would never do that. Steve let fear get the better of him and it almost destroyed his relationship. 

So when they lay down for bed, Steve peppers Bucky's face with kisses until his mate is laughing and pushing Steve off of him. They curl up and Steve closes his eyes, really content with his life for the first time. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "My Sun, My Moon" by starlight_starbright](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7889608) by [Lovesfic (me23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/me23/pseuds/Lovesfic)




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